What If?
by LixiPixi
Summary: moviebookmusical hybrid What if Meg had gone down to the phantoms lair? What if Christine hadn't fainted after Music of the Night? Find out. All Shippings. EC, CR and even some EM
1. Introduction

Introduction

Ok, so this is based on ideas by some fellow phans (yeah, I'm a dork)

Basically, it's the story of what would have happened if Meg had not been stopped by Madame Giry on her route down to the phantom's lair. (Movie based)

Also, what would happen if Christine didn't faint after Motn?

Find out here. R&R please. I already have most of the chapters done, so a couple every few days should do it.

Thanks!

Lizzi

x x x


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Erik felt his heart leap into his throat as Christine fell further into his spell like she was falling into a deeper and deeper sleep. He was just about to pull back the curtain which would reveal to Christine the true intention of his song, which something made him hesitate. It was Christine's pale hand, which trembled inside his own like that of a father holding the hand of his tiny daughter. To her he was a father figure and a teacher, he decided to give her one more lesson before he revealed the truth.

Christine followed eagerly after the dark figure as it swept across the stone floor to rest on the seat in front of an organ. Erik played out the same tune that poured out of his mouth on the organ, he then silenced them together.

"Sing for me as I have sung for you Christine." He said and he began the accompaniment again. She echoed his song but filled the music with her own words.

_Night time holds me, tricks me into dreaming_

_Dark means beauty, my fear is slowly dying_

_Music makes me bolder, another night grows older_

_What I hear will make my song take flight_

_For I can hear the music of the night_

Christine felt herself come to her senses as if she had woken from a beautiful dream and seen the truth. She leapt forward and tore the mask away from its owner. Erik felt a sudden blast of icy air upon his face, and clapped his hand to his face…regretting the precious seconds when he had left his face bare. With an animalistic cry, Christine was flung harshly to the ground and was followed by anything Erik could lay his hands on. He screamed, raged and cursed until his throat was raw and he shook from fatigue. He continued to shake, but with heartbreaking sobs. Christine was frozen with shock, her body cramped with the pain of her fall. Erik stood up, his back to her and struggling to keep his composure.

"Go! Leave me in peace now." He cried, his voice breaking with sorrow. Christine did not hesitate to flee far from the monster, down steps and through the rooms of Erik's lair. She could not find a way out apart from using the gondola, and she had no idea how to work it.

Eventually Christine came across what she thought must be Erik's room, it was lit by hundreds of candles, there were desks stacked high with papers and at the back, in the shadows, there was a bed dressed in black sheets. Suddenly Christine felt overwhelmingly tired and could not help herself dropping to sleep and into the soft darkness of the shadows.

- - - - - -

Silence greeted Meg as she entered Christine's dressing room. She had been hoping for something more welcoming. A sigh escaped her lips and she decided to search the room for any clue of where her best friend may have disappeared to. A beam of warm light was cast across the floor and on to a single rose which had obviously fallen from one of the many welcoming bunches that littered the room. Meg picked it up and returned it to the neared bunch of roses, she wished she could take one to put in her own room. It had been a long time since she had been given a rose.

Meg felt a chill on the back of her neck, she turned and saw that it was coming from a gap in the mirror. The same gap that was emitting a soft candlelight. The mirror shifted to the right when Meg tried to prise it open, showing a dimly lit, cavernous tunnel. Could Christine have disappeared down there? Meg began to walk down the corridor like she was wading through water, taking slow steps and struggling to stifle her screams when she almost placed her pointed toes on several slimy rats.

The tunnel soon turned into a staircase that twisted deep into the earth, Meg began to walk quicker. She went as if being followed, and took the steps three at a time until she reached the shore of a dark lake. She, like everyone else, had heard the rumours that there was a lake under the opera house and there it lay before her, still as the sky on a winter's morning. Meg then wondered where Christine could have gone to, as she could not have crossed the lake without a boat, and where do you get a boat from when you are under ground? She decided to follow a narrow passage that led into the wall on her left, it was cramped and the ground felt all too soft under her feet, she could not help wondering after the state of her ballet shoes. As Meg came closer to her final destination, she heard a haunting voice singing a lullaby, and she could not help but quicken her step towards it because she new that that voice would be flattered that she had enjoyed its song. As the song grew louder, Meg felt a curtain in front of her, blocking her from the voice. Slowly, she drew the curtain to the side and absorbed the scene that lay before her.

There, head bowed like a grieving man, stood the figure that had filled so many conversations and inspired so many stories. His head was bowed so that it was if he was grieving over the body that lay on a bed before him, this body was that of a sleeping Christine. Christine was so deep in sleep that she could have been mistaken for one who was dead.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

That is exactly what Meg thought, she took one look at the perfectly still Christine and then looked upon Erik as not just a ghost, but also a murderer. A scream issued from Meg's mouth and she instantly turned to bolt back up the tunnel she had come from. Erik had just discovered Christine asleep on his own bed when Meg had appeared, he had barely even noticed her when she had ran away shouting and screaming so much you would think Erik had harmed her. He immediately pursued her, she had obviously discovered a passage into his house and he couldn't have her running back and telling everyone. He swept through the tunnel, groping in the darkness for the girl whose cries he could still here echoing through the walls, he gave a lunge forward and his hand grasped a skinny shoulder. Erik then clapped a hand over the girl's mouth and commanded her to be quiet or she "may end up getting hurt". He turned and began to pull her back towards his house. She gave muffled cries and kicked out furiously. Her light feet did not hinder Erik as he reached his room again. Erik was especially keen that she would not wake Christine, as he could not imagine her being thrilled that he was dragging her best friend kicking and screaming through his lair.

Meg was panicking, now she laid eyes on Christine again…she wondered if whatever happened to Christine was going to happen to her. So she took a great risk and opened her mouth again, but instead of screaming she bit down on the hand that covered it. Hard. A cry of pain seeped between Erik's teeth and he could not help but wrench his hand away from Meg's mouth, he held his injured hand with his other and released Meg completely. Meg cried out Christine's name and rushed to the bedside. Erik caught her by the wrist swiftly and hissed at her.

"Quiet, you little rat! Do you want to wake her?" He began to pull her through another door away from his room.

"Wake her?" Meg asked, she hadn't been aware that Christine could have been woken…

"Yes, wake her. She is sleeping you know, on her own…she has not fainted away and I haven't drugged her, or perhaps you presumed I had put her asleep altogether?" He ruthlessly questioned Meg, dragging her through more hallways in his house. Deep in thought, Meg had not spared a thought to where she was being dragged by the phantom and was quite shocked to find herself pushed roughly into a room…followed only by a locked door.

_- - - -_

An hour or so later, Christine found herself sitting back at the vanity table of her dressing room. Erik has returned her himself, saying that she was missed and he had things he had to take care of. She had chosen not to question him. Christine's head jerked to towards her locked door as a sharp knock woke her from a daydream. A key clicked in the lock and Madame Giry entered.

"Oh Christine dear, I wasn't expecting to find you. People have been looking for you all night…you would think they would have the sense to search your room!" She said with an air of surprise, but her voice also stung with worry. "Have you seen Meg at all? She came through here looking for you and I haven't seen hide nor hair of her since. She even missed rehearsals this morning! She hasn't missed a rehearsal since she was five years old." Madame Giry's confident and harsh attitude was gone, and Christine was shocked to see her eyes glazing over with worried tears. Christine cast her thoughts back to the dreams that had haunted her sleep the night she had fallen asleep on Erik's bed, she remembered hearing vivid screams and the voice of her best friend calling her name desperately. She couldn't possibly tell Madame Giry. She would think of her as a fool and a mad woman!

"Does Meg ever go in the cellars?" Christine spoke this line, hearing how ridiculous the words sounded as they left her mouth. Madame Giry looked up in curiosity, but there was also a knowing glint.

"Of course! She must have followed you and Erik down the passage." Madame Giry rose from her kneeling position and began to pace the room. "She must have come up behind Erik. Oh I do hope she was careful." Christine shot to her feet, her eyes wild with surprise. She stuttered over her words with amazement.

"What? How…Erik…you…Erik?" She muttered his name over and over until held know meaning, Madame Giry placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back into her seat. Madame Giry then slowly told Christine that she was an old friend of Erik's and that Meg had probably sneaked up on Erik whilst he was working.

"What has he done with her?" Christine questioned, various scenarios running through her head that involved Meg being knocked to the floor, being sprung apon by a raging Erik, she tried to push them from her mind.

"I can't say, I can't imagine he's hurt her, he knows better than to hurt an innocent girl….especially the daughter of his oldest friend! Well…second oldest." She rambled on, plotting a scheme to find Meg. She thought of writing, but he obviously had kept Meg for a reason, she thought of going down there herself, but it was too dangerous. Eventually her mind rested on the answer, the girl who sat, pale and shaken, before her. She told Christine of her plan, Christine was to call to Erik that night saying that she was upset and needed a place to escape from it all, she would spend the night at the lair and once Erik fell asleep, she could find Meg and help her get back to the opera house.

"Now get some sleep, I daresay you won't be getting much tonight." And with that, Madame Giry walked stiffly out of the room, having restored calm in her own mind, leaving Christine to her thoughts. She barely even considered sleeping, instead she made arrangements to spend time with Raoul and also explain to him the reason for her disappearance the night before, and the reason she would disappear that night.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Raoul's mouth seemed to be permanently hanging open with shock. Christine longed to place her hand gently under his chin and snap it shut, but instead she stared at him blankly.

"Christine…are you quite sure? Could you not of just been dreaming?" Raoul said, trying with great difficultly to register the information Christine had just poured out to him. He had been expecting a quiet afternoon with the girl he was swiftly falling deeper in love with, but Christine had arrived looking hurried and with the air of a person who carries a great burden. After sitting her in a comfortable chair he had questioned her and she had confessed the reason she had not appeared at supper the night before and also the reason that everyone was going frantic looking for the little blonde flower that was Meg Giry.

"My hands Raoul! They're grazed from when I was knocked down by Erik." She slipped her grazed hands through Raoul's and then held them up in front of his eyes. "But that's not all, I also must say goodbye for at least another night as I must return to Erik tonight." Raoul grasped Christine's hands between his own and clung to them as if he had to hold on to a piece of Christine to stop her disappearing that very moment. His hair hung in his eyes as he drew his head nearer to Christine's.

"Why? Surely you were lucky enough to get away this time?" he questioned with great urgency. Christine pulled her hands away and sat back, away from Raoul's pleading eyes.

"I have to get Meg back! You need not look at me like that, I don't want to go!" She said guiltily, feeling as if to return to Erik was to betray Raoul. Glancing at the clock tower that peeked over the roof of an aristocratic building and shone with the amber light of the sunset, she gasped and realised she had to get back to the opera house before darkness made travelling too dangerous. "Oh Raoul forgive me! I must go, I shall be back as quickly as time allows and I shan't do anything to make you doubt my love for you. Please believe me, oh I must go quickly!" With that, Christine through her arms around Raoul's neck and muffled her sobs with reluctant goodbyes.

- - - - -

Meg gave a cry of frustration when she awoke from what she guessed was an afternoon nap (being in a cave and having no natural light, she had no idea what time of day it was), just inside the door was a plate of food. She was so angry at herself, she had tried to feign sleep in order to catch the door open when the phantom put food in the room for her, but she had fallen asleep and missed him again.

The room she was imprisoned in was very boring, an iron bedstead, a writing desk, a vanity table (with no mirror, much to Meg's dismay) and a wash basin were all that the room contained and she found little to do but sleep. The phantom did not respond to her cries, he did not react when she cursed him loudly and he did not try to stop her when she had tried to kick down the door. She had not succeeded of course, ruined ballet shoes were not the perfect battering rams.

As she picked up the plate from the floor Meg noticed a letter that had been placed under it:

_Dear Meg,_

_This is your home for now, with what you know it is not going to do me any favours to let you return to the opera house. I will provide you with food and clean clothes, the sink in the corner gives both cold and hot water. If there is anything in particular you require then write it on the back of this note with the ink and quill I have left on the writing desk. No hate letters please, they only bore me._

_Your obedient servant_

_O.G._

Meg sighed. At least she wasn't going to starve, or have to stay forever in her already tattered ballet dress. She immediately wrote "a watch" on the back of the letter, and then with a flash of inspiration and a glance at the door she added "string".

- - - - - -

Christine had no problem making herself look unhappy, the tears from her meeting with Raoul had left their mark deep in her glittering eyes. Christine knew Erik could see grief from a mile off, he obviously knew it well, she hoped it would be a good enough excuse to explain her urge to see him. She would explain that Raoul was greatly angry at her, and that all that lay above ground seemed stained with a cold disappointment so she had chosen to disappear away for the night and let music free her from feeling. She had run it over so many times in her head she almost believed herself. Christine raised her head to the open window that allowed her to hear the chimes of the clock tower all the clearer. The chimes rang out through the crisp night air, ten of them….they seemed to trigger the voice that called to Christine through the shadows. Raising her head to the mirror, Christine abandoned all attempts at the truth and let the lie replace it, she rose and walked towards the mirror like a criminal condemned to death.

- - - - - -

"So, What is it that foolish child has done?" Erik said delicately, trying to slip his question into the conversation without disturbing it. He failed though.

"Oh Erik! I did not come here to be reminded of the thing I came here to forget!" Christine declared with a strict look at Erik, she felt she owed something to Raoul, his dignity at least. Every moment she lied stung her like a persistent horse fly. She pushed her lies from her mind and instead she focused on the reason she was there, to rescue Meg. Madame Giry had told her to wait until Erik was asleep, but it seemed that every moment Christine spent near him he became more and more awake. Currently, he was so awake he didn't seem to be able to sit still for a moment, he paced the lair like a caged and animal and constantly flipped the conversation back and forth, though it always seemed to end up hovering around the subject of Raoul. Warding Erik away from the reason of her visit was exhausting Christine and she came upon the idea that Erik couldn't question her if she was sleeping, though she didn't expect Erik would be doing getting any sleep in his current state.

"Erik, you tire me with your talk! Where will I be sleeping tonight?" At these words, Erik suddenly took on the appearance of a distraught child, his eyes looked as if they would grace his cheeks with tears at any moment, but he swallowed his tears and turned to Christine.

"Is it my talk that tires you? Well I am silent then! Not a word shall pass my lips if that is your wish." After the last word of that line Erik sat down with a thunk upon the nearest chair and stared and Christine blankly, he was acting so strangely Christine couldn't help but laugh. That heart broken face appeared again.

"Erik, I am sorry, you are acting in the queerest manner. Can you show me to my room please, I am sure it is quite late anyway?"

"One twenty two," He said emptily, without glancing at his watch. He then stood up and took Christine's hand. "This way then." He took her through the infinite corridors of his house, doors flashed past every which way. Christine tried to remember the way as she was pulled along, but the doors drifted in and out of her mind like the tide. Erik unlocked a door that was a dead end to one of the tunnels, it revealed a beautiful room. The flames of candles danced and cast shadows upon the smooth stone walls, etching out demons that recoiled and sprung on you depending on the stillness of the air. Incense burned gently in the corner, filling the room with glorious and rich fragrances that seemed to drag Christine's eyelids slowly downwards. Baskets of deep red roses stood proudly on night stands that flanked a welcoming bed. Foreign silks dressed the bed, beads and embroidery gleamed in the soft light like diamonds and teardrops, glistening so that it seemed the sheets were alive with a million tiny lights. Christine reached out to touch a rose, just to check that it was there and not the image of some astounding fantasy. Erik covered her hand gently with his own, and moved it away.

"Careful, I wouldn't want you to cut yourself. Those roses are beautiful, but they have sharp thorns," he spoke tenderly and Christine could not bring herself to argue, instead she turned towards Erik. His eyes were half closed, the incense was having the same effect upon him as it was on Christine. A thought struck Christine, if he could only get him to fall asleep on the bed, she would be free to search for Meg without interruption. But how on earth was she to get a man who never ate, slept or possessed any vaguely human properties to fall dead asleep? A thought crossed her mind, and it was so sinful of her that she pushed it swiftly out again, although she had not a doubt in her mind that it would work.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The oil lamp spilled welcoming light upon the dingy room. Its soft glow opened Meg's eyes and she sat up in her bed, her eyes just getting used to the light. The first thing she did was look at the door, there next to it was the usual plate of food and a package.

"Oh please let this be it!" Meg pleaded to herself, padding across the room and tearing the brown paper away from what it covered. First to catch her eye was a watch; it told her that the time was 1:22. Next she laid her hands upon a blue dress, it was a plain and simple dress and not what she had been searching for. Then finally, what she had been searching for fell right into her lap. A ball of string. She gave a shriek of happiness and leapt from where she had been kneeling to the door, she would the end of the string round the handle and then hurried to her bed, she bit through the rough string and tied the other end around her frail wrist.

Meg had noticed, the night before, that the door to her room opened outwards. This meant if she tied string from the handle to herself when the door was opened it would trigger a sharp pull on her wrist and wake her instantly. He would not sneak past her again! Meg settled herself on the end of her bed, near enough to the door to be able to jump to it at a moment's notice.

- - - - -

A deep purple thorn threatened to piece the skin on Christine's finger as she squeezed the stem of a rose tightly. She was so deep in thought she hardly noticed the sharp thorn pushing its way into her finger, her mind was filled with different plans…occasionally she would discard one with the knowledge that it definitely wouldn't work.

"Christine…your finger is bleeding." Came a voice through the fog of her mind, she snapped back to her senses and immediately felt the stabbing pain in her finger. She dropped the rose to the floor and sat herself down on her bed, placing the cut finger on her lips and feeling the warm blood trickle through them. She desperately wanted the right thought to come along, and would concentrate on nothing else until it did. A warm hand brought itself to Christine's, and gently moved her hand away from her mouth. Erik wrapped her hand gently in a white cloth, and placed his gaze upon Christine's pained face. Just looking at her face made his heart jump to his throat, every moment he could feel her near him and just the knowledge that she was right there made him shiver with anticipation. She was there, she had chosen to be there, she was right there with her hand in his and her body not a metre away. He held that hand for what seemed like a lifetime, and he wished it had been for he wished he could live his lifetime with her. Erik saw Christine's eyes slowly begin to close, her eyelids fluttered between consciousness and sleep, and she let her head drop slowly to rest on Erik's shoulders. He was so close to her, he could feel her hair brushing against his cheek and her breathing against him. He laid her gently back on the bed and watched her. Though she was beautiful, it only brought grief to Erik's eyes as it was a beauty he couldn't even dream of keeping. Though he did dream of it, beautiful dreams that destroyed his when he realised their distance from reality. Christine's hand slowly slipped from his grasp as she shifted in her sleep, and he felt everything he wished for slip away from him. Erik couldn't let himself wake up from this dream just yet. He also let himself lie back on the bed, he watched Christine's chest rise and fall with her gentle breathing and matched his own to hers. There Erik lay, once again grasping Christine's hand and feeling her blood rush beneath her skin, letting himself fall into a deep sleep that matched that of the beautiful girl beside him.

- - - - -

Christine let her eyes drift open very slowly, so she could take in her surroundings carefully and make sure it was safe for her to stop "sleeping". She had never seen an angel sleep, and there one lay before her, his hand holding hers. She softly drew her hand away from his and rose to her feet. When she was not there beside Erik, he looked empty and only half there, which she supposed he must feel like everyday. Christine turned her head and dragged herself from the room, she silently prayed she would return before Erik woke up, left the room and picked the nearest corridor to explore.

She paced along, knocking on every door and hissing Meg's name at every moment. The thought struck her, as she turned yet another corner, that she couldn't remember the way back, she had left the door of the room open though, so she merely had to search for an open door. The only one in the whole of Erik's house by the looks of things. Christine skipped a couple of steps into another hallway and knocked her hand loosely on a heavy wooden door, not pausing and leaning towards the next to land an identical knock on that one.

"Me-eg…" Christine said in a sing-song voice, skipping her way down the hall. In her speed she almost missed a muffled cry from behind the stone walls, but it caught her attention. She spun on her heels and raced back up the hall, knocking and pausing at every door until eventually she struck the door of Meg's room and she was replied by an echoing banging.

"Christine! Oh Christine! It's you, thank god!" came the cry from behind the door.

"Shhh! Meg, he is sleeping. Oh don't tell me the door is locked." Poor Christine cried desperately, rattling the door handle.

"Well of course the door is locked! Did you think I was staying here for fun?" Meg chided, realising that any chances of her freedom where up in flames. She heard the exasperation in Christine's voice and softened her tone. "But don't worry, go back to the phantom…I have my own escape plan. All you have to do is give him plenty of free time to come to my room. Now go, you say he is sleeping, but for how long? You're best going back to him." Christine gave a quiet sob of defeat and began winding her way back through the passages. She had not been walking long when she collided with the shaken figure of her angel. He grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes with his own, heavy with worry.

"Where have you been? I woke and you weren't lie-…..in the room." He quickly corrected himself, hoping that Christine had not thought much over him lying so near her. She swept his hands from off her shoulders and cast her gaze to the floor.

"I woke up, I had nothing better to do so I just went for a walk. Why do you worry? The doors are locked anyway!" Christine felt Erik's eyes burning into her. "You couldn't expect me to stay locked up in that room forever could you?" She burst out, more excuses flooding out of her mouth in order to cover the truth.

"Christine! It's three in the morning, I suggest you go back and get some more sleep." Erik suggested, taking her hand and beginning to lead her back along the passageway. He couldn't help but wonder why she had reacted so suspiciously when he has asked her where she had been. He wondered what she had seen whilst she was wandering the passage ways, it was true that all the doors in his house where locked, excluding his room and also the entrance and exit of his home, where the lake met its banks.

Only one candle was left lit in Christine's room, she was too exhausted to put it out. Erik had left her to sleep but she was too absorbed in thought, though occasionally she would catch her eyelids slowly sinking closed and have to pull herself awake. She couldn't help but try guess what Meg's plan of escape was, but she guessed it was being put into action that very moment.

- - - - -

Meg shifted gently in her sleep, her mind full of dreams about the world above, she longed to return to the opera house and as she slept she was making her best attempt at freedom. A piece of string linked her wrist to the handle of the wooden door. Footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside, that and the sweeping of a cloak. A key clicked in the lock and the handle began to turn, and as the door was pulled open, Meg was pulled instantly from her dreams.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Erik slipped the iron key back in his pocket and began to pull the heavy door open. It seemed to be stuck and would not open beyond an inch, he gave it another, rougher tug and it flew open with a force that was far beyond the pull he had given it. It swung round and smashed into Erik's elbow, leaving him slumped against the wall, clutching his arm and groaning in pain. He glanced up and was greatly shocked to see Meg Giry untying herself from the door handle, before he had a chance to stop her she had sprinted down the nearest hallway oblivious to Erik, who pursued her immediately.

Meg ran, her heart skipped with her step and the bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach when she heard heavy footsteps echoing hers only a few metres behind. Every time she lost her footing on the uneven stone floor she felt the distance between her and the phantom shrink. Then as she stumbled again she felt him catch up to her, and in a sweep of black coat she was pinned roughly against the wall. He held her to the wall with his uninjured arm, supporting her weight so that Meg's feet barely touched the floor. Meg squirmed like a rabbit in the jaws of a dog, but Erik had her pinned so harshly that she could feel the contours of the stone wall biting into her back and there was no room between them for her to move. Erik moved his face nearer to Meg, she tried to pull her face away from his hot breath but the stone wall caged her in. Erik lightened his breathing slightly, he had been issuing jagged breaths as a result of running after Meg.

"May I ask where exactly you think you're going?" Erik said slowly and deliberately putting a threatening edge on every word. Meg shied away from his voice, in his presence she seemed to have lost the power of speech, and also she failed to keep eye contact for more than a second. Meg believed that you could see into a person's soul through their eyes, she could not look into the Phantom's for fear of what she might see. When she looked for only a second, she just saw a hard, steely exterior that acted like a veil over a bride's face, it hid what was meant to be seen.

"Let me go!" Meg whimpered pathetically in protest. Erik threw his head back and gave a horrible laugh like a madman. Meg tried to struggle but Erik increased his vice-like grip on her shoulders and she felt his fingers bruising into her skin. She studied Erik's crazed expression but suddenly it changed. He stood back slightly (although not letting go of Meg), his eyes softened and he swallowed as if something in the room made him nervous. Meg followed his gaze and spotted what it was that caused Erik's rock hard exterior to soften. Christine stood in the doorway of a nearby room, her eyes as soft and startled as a doe's. She stood there, in her night clothes, her rich hair tumbling over her pale shoulder and a couple of stands gracing her face. Meg was pretty…but Christine was beautiful. Erik absorbed her beauty with his eyes, her porcelain skin and perfect lips and her long willowy legs that were hidden mostly by her white skirt, but a slit up one side gave a slight suggestion. Her face was contorted with shock though. Christine heard sounds in the hall and had come upon the scene of Erik pushing Meg against the wall, his face not even an inch from hers and a look of pure horror and disgust was easily seen on Meg's face.

"Let her go!" Christine cried out, rushing towards Erik and laying a hand on his injured arm. Erik winced and violently wrenched his arm out of Christine's light grip, cursing the pain under his breath. Christine backed away quickly and frowned deeply at Erik's temper. "Leave her alone, she hasn't done anything to you!" Christine commanded, but her voice was edging on pleading. Her fear was increased even more when Erik burst into a maniacal fit of laughter, and with another rough push on Meg's shoulder he began to rant.

"She hasn't done anything to me? I could write a book on what this rat has done to me! First she intruded on my property, then she immediately assumed I was a murderer, she then tried to run away to tell everyone where I live and consequently ruin my life, then she tried to disturb my only guest, shortly after than she bit me, then she took advantage of my generosity and hospitality, then she swung a heavy wooden door into me which I think has thoroughly shattered my elbow and finally she had made a repeat attempt at the 3rd thing on my list." Erik gave a sigh of exhaustion after finishing his speech and looked expectantly at Christine, waiting patiently for her argument.

"I don't care what she's done to you Erik! You're holding an innocent girl prisoner, not just any girl but the daughter of your oldest friend…"

"Second oldest" Erik corrected her.

"And now you're pinning her against a wall and no doubt hurting her, you should be ashamed of yourself!" Christine lectured Erik, he gave a snarl and reluctantly moved away from Meg, releasing her shoulder. He watched as Christine leapt forward and embraced Meg, questioning her well being and examining the growing bruise that stained her pale shoulder. It was a perfect imprint of Erik's hand, etched into her skin in deep purple like paint on a clean canvas.

"I still can't let her go you know." Erik said, disturbing the calm that flooded the girl's minds. Christine looked up to him and openly pleaded with him.

"Oh please let her go, if she promises to make up a story of where she has been and tells no one!" Erik looked down at Christine. She was kneeling at his feet, looking up to him with her pleading eyes and desperate words escaping her lips like kisses. Erik sighed and, leering at Meg, granted Christine's request. She sprung up from where she was sitting and threw her arms around his neck in gratitude, he was greatly tempted to pull her body closer to his but Meg's eyes were watching him carefully and it was not the time for taking risks.

- - - - -

Meg walked along, a few metres behind Christine, rubbing the bruise on her shoulder. She laid her own fingers where Erik's had been and marvelled on the difference in size between them, the mark lay way beyond Meg's pale hands. She turned her gaze back to where Christine was headed and discovered that in her thoughts, she had lost her. Meg sighed and began to walk quicker in order to catch up to her friend, with a groan she realised that Christine had been holding the candle Erik had given them and now she had nothing but darkness to follow. She groped around in the dark, following the walls with her hands. Suddenly the wall dipped into a doorframe, and in the doorframe was a door. Meg couldn't remember if she had gone through a door when she had come towards the phantom's house. She decided to go through the door and then turn back if it was the wrong way. Meg stepped lightly through the door and shut it quietly behind her. She couldn't see much because in this tiny room, there was almost no light just a dim glow from a miniscule gap between the wall and the floor. Meg had obviously come the wrong way, she turned to the door again and reached for the handle. There was no handle on that side of the door though, the door was as smooth as any of the walls. Meg thought she had perhaps forgotten the location of the door and that the handle lay on a different wall. She felt each wall, there were six walls. The room was hexagonal shaped, every wall the same width and height and none of them had a handle. Meg, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, began pushing all her weight against each of the walls in hope that one would give way. But they didn't, she was locked into the tiny room and there was nothing she could do but collapse on the floor and fill the chamber with echoing sobs.

Fresh sobs could still be heard minutes later, and they were heard. Meg was snapped out of her sorrow when a voice called from beyond one of the walls.

"Who is in my torture chamber?" said Erik's voice. Meg jumped up and began to knock on the walls with her fists.

"It's me, Meg! Oh please let me out!" She pleaded desperately with Erik. A click came from one of the walls and it swung open, Erik stepped in and rounded on Meg.

"Well, well, look who came trespassing again!" Erik taunted her, laying his hand on her shoulder so it fit perfectly inside the bruise that lay there. Meg felt a wave of claustrophobia come over her, the tiny room did not allow for her to run away from Erik. Before she could think, Meg pushed Erik away from her, he was caught off balance and he stumbled backwards, hitting his head on the door harshly. The door swung closed with a bang and Erik turned, a look of the most desperate horror on his face, and he collapsed to the foot of the door, which lay as smooth and as solid as any of the walls.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter six

The tiny room that Meg was stuck in could not contain Erik's rage, he gave yells and screams that ripped through the walls and echoed through every passageway and corner in Erik's domain. Meg leant against one of the cold walls, and slid down it until she was sitting on the floor, curled away from Erik's indescribable fury. He felt his yells consume him and insults and curses rushed out of his mouth before they passed his mind, like a forest fire that was fuelled by Meg's stupidity. Erik kicked out at one of the walls, which he knew were not walls, but mirrors that magnified his rage endlessly. There was a crash, followed by a light, flickering sound. A million shards of mirror scattered their way throughout the room, tiny pieces landed like snow in Meg's hair and when she raised her head they leapt away like tiny glass butterflies. She raised her worried eyes to look at Erik. He was kneeling on the floor, the glass crunching and cutting slowly into his clothes, breathing heavily and cradling his head in his hands. Meg tried to sedate him with her words with the premonition that they would just agitate him further.

"Erik…" Meg had never said his name before. "Erik, I'm sorry." Her words contrasted horribly with the silence that followed them, she heard only Erik's angered breathing and her heart beating like a hammer against her ribcage. It was so loud she was tempted to ask Erik whether he could hear it too but she waited patiently for him to reply to her previous statement. Erik took a breath that told Meg he was about to speak.

"Its…it's not that. It'll only take me an hour or so to get us out of here, it's the mirrors." It was a relief to hear him say words that not only forgave Meg, but were loaded with a sweet tranquillity. She frowned in confusion. Mirrors? Where were the mirrors? Almost if he could read Meg's mind, Erik answered her thoughts. "These aren't walls, these are mirrors. Walls can't shatter." Erik ran his fingers along the jagged edges of the remaining shards of glass and as he felt a cut begin to grow on his skin he found himself reminded of the previous night with Christine. He let himself be pulled deeply into a dream, He felt her head on his shoulder again, her hand clasped in his and her beautiful body giving way to sleep. He felt breath on his face and a hand set under his chin but they were set in the present, Erik pulled himself away from his daydream and came to.

"Erik…" came a soft voice from far away, vaguely familiar. "Erik….you fainted, wake up." Said the voice again. Somehow, in Erik's mind, this voice seemed to belong to Christine and not Meg. Meg was stood over him, holding his head up with her hand, talking to him. In Erik's confused mind, it was Christine that stood there, speaking in Meg's voice. Erik raised a hand shakily to touch her face. Meg presumed he was just checking he was no longer unconscious and did not pull away from the feel of his skin on hers. His fingers brushed lightly over her lips, under her chin and then they swept down her neck lightly, Meg shivered from the sensitivity of his touch. His lips were moving, he spelt out "Christine" with his breath. She sighed inwardly and realised Erik's confusion. She reached for Erik's hand, which now lay over her beating heart, and guided it so that it rested in his lap. Meg recoiled slightly and made the decision to correct him.

"No, it's Meg. Erik you must be dreaming." She whispered to him, shaking his shoulder lightly to wake him from his dream-like state. Erik sat him self up properly against the wall and opened and closed his eyes several times, shaking tiredness from them. He dreaded what he may have done in those past few minutes, he had been stranded in a dream about Christine, and she had been exactly where Meg sat. Every sense in the dream had seemed real, the feel of flesh beneath his fingers, of silky lips that he had traced with the very tips of his hands, a chest that heaved with nervous breathing and a heartbeat that skipped like a ballerina . So real and so wonderful he felt as if he had held every emotion possible in his two hands.

- - - -

A beam of light filled the corridor that Christine entered, it seared her eyes as a welcome change from the dim candle she had been carrying for the rest of her journey to the surface. She was unaware that she walked alone though, Meg and Christine had begun their walk in silence and Christine felt no need to change the atmosphere, her mind was riddled with thoughts that she needed to make sense of and silence served her perfectly.

The mirror shifted to the side when Christine attempted to prise it open, the moment she stepped into the room she was swept off her feet and into Raoul's desperate arms.

He had waited there since sunrise, his eyes burning through the mirror. He had longed to know what Christine was doing and he had torn himself apart with worry, as the morning grew later he began to dread what could have happened. Raoul had never seen Erik but he was sure he must be monstrous, Christine had said he wore a mask to cover what was hidden beneath. When Erik preyed on Raoul's mind he was always without his mask, and images of yellowing flesh stretched over protruding bones and distorted features seemed to drive him to madness. He had terrible pictures of Christine cowering away from Erik's cold dead hands, but in these pictures, Erik never failed to find Christine and she was tortured for every moment she remained underground. Raoul had been running one of the most gruesome of these scenarios through his mind when Christine had appeared before him. Relief swept over him and he embraced Christine, holding her so she could not be taken away again, even if she wished to go he would not let her! He kissed her on the lips, not caring for what she would think of his forwardness. Christine laughed at him, mocking his worry.

"Oh Raoul! Did you think I had left you for good? I was going to come back, even if I died trying." Christine said happily, smiling fondly at Raoul's evident relief. He was so happy, to hear her bright voice and to thread his fingers through her thick, curly hair, and to plant kisses on her porcelain skin, he could not think of words to express his happiness. He regained his manners and stood away from Christine, surveying her health from what he could see. He took her hand and was about to land a kiss on it when he noticed deep red marked gouged into her skin, her hand was covered in them and parts of her hand were stained with dried blood. Raoul turned a sickly shade of white and looked desperately at Christine.

"The blood! Look at the b-b-blood!" He stammered, holding Christine's hand up for her to see. She lowered it.

"It was me! I cut my hand on a rose thorn…" she said dreamily, suddenly casting her mind back to the moment in her room. Erik holding her hand for what seemed like a lifetime and her not caring if it was. Seeing the look of ecstasy on Christine's face Raoul tried to deny her of whatever wonderful dream she was dwelling in.

"Don't lie! Don't protect him Christine, I know he did this to you. Why protect him? He does not deserve protection if he could do this to a woman." Raoul almost wished it was Erik who had hurt Christine, then he would finally have a reason to take Christine away from him, and also away from the wonder which she seemed to hold deep in her eyes whenever she spoke about Erik. There was a horrible knowledge that a piece of her heart rested with Erik, and that she could never really love Raoul fully. Though he also knew that Christine could not love Erik, if he wasn't there to love.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

As Christine embraced Raoul for the third time, she felt a terrible emptiness in the room, it struck her suddenly like a bitter breeze. A chill writhed its way down Christine's spine as realisation struck her. Meg was no where to be seen. Christine pulled herself away from Raoul and threw herself into a frenzy of panic.

"Where is she?" she shrieked, running through her room and searching every corner as her worry grew. Raoul didn't know where to look, one minute he had been holding Christine near him and the next she had pushed him away and was turning her room upside down for some unknown reason. He grasped her arm firmly and tried to calm her for just a moment, but Christine seemed beyond calming.

"Christine, calm yourself! What on earth is wrong with you?" Raoul questioned her, he feared what could have struck her with such horror.

"Meg left with me and she isn't here now!" Christine shook her way through her explanation, tears welled up in her eyes and she began to sob silently. "It's the only r-r-reason I w-went down there! Madame Giry is going to hate me…" She raised her head to look into Raoul's eyes and gripped his hands tightly. "I'm going to have to go back to find her." She declared quickly and turned to run straight back down into the cellars, but Raoul clung to her hands insistently.

"No!" Raoul cried and he pulled her by the hands back to his side. He had been sure that if she had returned that morning that she need never go back, every time she went away she came back filled with more love for that monster and Raoul worried that if she went back again, she would love him so much that she had no room left to yearn for the world above and she would stay down there forever, and never think a single thought about poor Raoul! "You can't go back Christine, not when you've only just returned." He insisted, barring another of her attempts to dash for the mirror. Christine turned on her heel and, with great desperation, wrenched herself away from Raoul and disappeared through the mirror, back into darkness. She was pursued by Raoul so quickly the young man had not a second to think.

- - - -

Meg cast another hot breath on to the freezing mirror and started to write meaningless words in the clouds her breath had formed. She was unbelievably bored, Erik was focusing his attention on finding the switch that opened a trap door to the cellar bellow and was not company. The tiny room lay silent, apart from the crunching of glass under Erik's feet and the steady breaths of the two people. Meg found herself looking for someone to blame for her boredom. Perhaps it was Christine's fault, she should have noticed Meg's absence and be looking hard for her. Perhaps it was Erik's, he had after all invented the room they were imprisoned in. But she realised, reluctantly, that it was her fault. She had gone through the door and shut it behind her, she had pushed Erik so the door slammed close for a second time and she had let Erik believe she was Christine, a mistake that cast an uncomfortable silence throughout the tiny chamber and confiscated and possible conversation.

Erik cut his hand for about the millionth time on a shard of mirror as he fumbled about in the darkness for the switch that would grant him freedom. Every movement of his hand triggered another of his wounds to crack through its scab and begin to bleed, he felt his skin being butchered further with every twitch of his fingers. Awkwardness hung like a thick blanket of fog throughout the room, he couldn't be sure what had happened, and he wasn't going to risk his dignity by asking. There were a few noises beyond the wall of the torture chamber, mostly the shutting of doors and footsteps from the floors above, but one particular noise made Erik shoot up from his sitting position. A songbird's voice travelled through the darkness like a sunrise cutting through deep night sky. As Erik was happily floating with that voice, another joined it that made him crash back to earth suddenly. A snarl escaped Erik's mouth despite his gritted teeth, he had the sudden urge to smash another mirror, anything to get rid of the raw loathing that burned inside him. He snapped round and saw that Meg had pushed herself as far from him as she could, like prey that had been cornered by its predator. Her not understanding his anger made him furious further, and to siphon away his unsustainable anger he gave a roar like feral animal. Meg pulled herself further into the corner, wanting to sink into the glass, but she pulled herself out of her hiding when she heard the voices of Christine and Raoul calling to her. She threw herself at the wall that was nearest to their voices and replied to them, crying, begging and pleading for them to open the door to her. The muffled footsteps grew nearer to the wall Meg had flung herself to. A knock answered the silent pleas Meg was running through her mind.

"Is that you in there Meg?" said Christine warily, for she did not know what lay on the other side of the door.

"Yes!" Meg answered brightly, she returned to her normal, bubbly self when she felt the relief that came with the knowledge of her release.

"Thank goodness! What was that awful cry? It was truly terrible, like a bear…no, a lion!" Meg looked over at Erik, who was now positioned out of the way of the door. He placed a finger smoothly to his lips, controlling Meg's answer.

"I have no idea, probably just a dog. The acoustics down here distort sound terribly," She glanced at Erik before she continued. "I almost though I heard a male voice!" Meg thought she saw Erik's lip curl in irritation. The reply Christine gave made a dim growl escape from between his bared teeth.

"You did! Raoul wouldn't let me come back to look for you without him, so he's right here beside me." Meg was worried she was going to have to hold Erik back to stop him injuring someone, most likely Raoul. Before she could worry anymore, the door clicked open and Christine's relieved face appeared in front of her. They hugged briefly and Meg nodded to Raoul shortly, she could feel Erik fuming in the room behind her. She wondered what on earth he was going to do, he wouldn't possible let them all leave when Raoul was so near along with Christine. She decided the best plan of action was to hurry them out of there, she prompted them to start there way back up the corridor. Before she could take a single nervous step Erik clamped his hand firmly around her wrist and commanded attention from all the people present.

"I don't think any of you will be leaving so quickly." Christine felt overcome. Her knees suddenly buckled and she collapsed into Raoul, who quickly grasped her shoulders and held her upright. "Dear Vicompte, try and stop your lady from swooning. We don't want her to hit her pretty head on the floor do we?" Raoul looked as if he was trying to decide whether to be scared or furious. His face was white but it was also contorted into a grimace, like he'd smelt something bad. Christine struggled to stand up straight.

"I was not swooning!" she declared, glaring at Erik. He simply gave a knowing smile and began to walk down the hall in the direction of his house, dragging Meg with him.

"If you want to negotiate the release of this two-time trespasser and escapee I suggest you follow me..." he drawled lazily, as if he was doing Christine and Raoul a favour. Raoul clung to Christine's arm as if to support her, but he had the suspicion that if he let her go she would disappear off somewhere with Erik. He could almost feel the pull he had on her like a magnetic force and he felt every moment she grew nearer to Erik the stronger the pull was.

- - - -

They were led through a door that gave way to a huge room that was more like a cavern. There were steps that lead down to the bank of a lake and a portcullis that separated the contained pool from a huge icy black expanse beyond it. Raoul absorbed this amazing sight, an entire underworld contained beneath the opera house. He was brought back to his sentence by Erik's commanding voice. His voice seemed to bring out extremes in emotion. When he taunted people he was able to make them as terrified or as infuriated as he liked. When he was angry at someone he could break their hearts with a simple note, he could drag tears from their eyes and sobs from their throats, he could fuel their own anger until it turned to hysteria. When he tried to woo someone he could have them swooning with delight, or breathless with amazement. Erik's voice was so consuming it could manipulate every thought and emotion so that it served him perfectly. Currently he was delivering the terms on which Meg could be released.

"I understand my dear friend Madame Giry is relying on you for the return of this girl? Oh wouldn't it be terrible to let her down…" He continued to bait Raoul like this for a minute or so until Raoul was able to get enough breath to speak.

"Enough Phantom! What do you want for her?" he tried to speak confidently, but the presence of Erik caused his voice to shake terribly.

"All I want is a simple trade. One girl for another, you can take Meg up back to the opera house and her worried mother if Christine comes to stay with me for a while." Raoul gasped and gripped Christine's shoulder even harder. Christine shrugged him off and turned to Erik.

"Fine. But you let Meg go now." She looked him deep in the eyes, and there was no resistance inside them.

"Fine, we are agreed then. Meg will go with Raoul, Christine will stay with her dear Erik." Erik addressed himself, just to infuriate Raoul further. It worked, Erik was able wind Raoul up like a jack-in-a-box. Raoul stuttered and grabbed at Christine's hand as some form of protest.

"How long?" he whined desperately, reluctantly releasing Christine so she could walk away from him to go to Erik.

"I don't know, as long as I want her here for." He pretended to consider it. "A while then." He added happily. Erik didn't normally act so cockily, just when he was in the company of Raoul. Erik gave a mock goodbye wave to Raoul and took Christine's hand and waved it in the air as well. She pulled it away slightly too late for Raoul's liking, but sighing heavily he turned and gestured for Meg to follow him as he left Erik and Christine alone.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter eight

A beam of moonlight stained Christine's empty bed. It tinted the tips of Meg's fingers a cold silver as she ran her hand flat across the sheets, they were a chilling as the wind that drifted in through the open window. This was the third night Christine had been absent from her bed, Meg couldn't remember a night in the dormitory when Christine hadn't been sleeping softly to the right of her, her slumber mixed with muttered words, usually about her father. Meg felt stupid, now she thought about it, the appearance of Erik in her life had actually become quite obvious, Meg had just failed to notice it.

It had been about three months before when Christine had come to bed later than usual, she had disappeared off to her dressing room after the evening performance and had spent many hours there, she had returned looking paler than usual. Every night from then on she went to her dressing room and returned to bed when Meg was already deep in sleep, although they would sometimes wait up for each other. Every night Meg would ask Christine where she went, she would never say though. She once told Meg, "I am spending this time with a gift from my father!" and Meg wondered what gift could be so wonderful that you wore away the evenings with it.

Then the day that Christine was called upon to take Carlotta's place in an Opera, she sang like no one had sung before. Then that night she had disappeared, Meg knew there was a connection with the whole thing and now she had finally got to the bottom of it.

"All that mystery and not a thing to gain!" she said to herself angrily. She hadn't even managed to get Christine back! Meg lit the oil lamp next to her bed and propped herself up on her elbow, thinking deeply about ways to ensure that there would never be another night when Christine was absent from her bed. She twisted her fingers through the ribbons on her nightdress and stared at the view that the small open window offered. She was snapped harshly from her tranquillity by means of flying book, thrown by a raven haired ballet rat who had sprung up from her lying position.

"Do you mind turning that damn lamp off? And closing the window? Some of us are trying to sleep!" the girl nagged sharply. Meg closed the window and drew the curtains, she then extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into total darkness.

- - - -

A river of hot wax flowed down the edge of the candle, creating a pool on the dark, maple desk. Christine dipped the tip of her finger in the wax while it was still glistening like syrup. It scorched her nerves for only a second as the cool air hardened it, turning the liquid into a glove tip, a perfect imprint of Christine's finger. She removed it with a simple flick of her nail and quietly bathed in the candle light, she also absentmindedly took in Erik's persistent gaze. He watched her from the other end of the mahogany table. He had given her food, books, stationary and endless open conversations but all she did was sit at the table, looking around and burning her fingers pointlessly on hot wax.

"Don't burn yourself." He growled lazily. Christine tried to regain the breath she had just lost. Every time he spoke out of the blue like that she felt like she had taken a punch to the stomach. She looked up from underneath her rich, dark curls and stared into Erik's eyes, trying to make sense of what she saw. They were a golden brown when they lay sleepy and inactive, but with Erik full of thoughts and plans as he sat there they were about as simple as a labyrinth. There were shards of dark drown in his eyes that seemed to suck you in and hold you there, making you forget yourself and see only Erik, those shades would hypnotise you until a flash of yellow broke the spell. Those flashes were short and sharp and unsettling to look at, that yellow was not the yellow of human eyes, and it was an eerie disc of light that covered the whole eye. Not even the pupils were seen through it. It reminded Christine of a cat in the dark, whose eyes gave an angry flare of superiority, the knowledge that while you stumbled blindly in the dark they could sense your every move, hear your heartbeat and smell the fear on you. There were also soft browns that could tense with hurt, soften with love or flare in anger at a single word, Christine's word. But she remained silent. Erik rose from his seat and put the candle out with a quick, sharp breath. He proceeded around the room, blowing out all of the candles. The air was soon polluted by the heavy burning smell and the only light came from the hallway, lit by dim sconces. Erik stood silhouetted in the doorway, his shoulders tensed and although Christine couldn't to see his eyes in the now dark room she new their complexity were taking her in slowly. She saw his jaw line twitch as he spoke to her again.

"It is late Christine, I think I will be showing you to your room now." He whispered through the darkness silkily, gesturing blindly through the black air and then turning to show the way through the endless halls of his home. He walked down the hall, glancing behind him to check Christine was following him, she trailed after him like a child reluctantly following its parent because they don't want to be left alone. The evening had been plagued by a bitter silence, Christine had barely spoken a word since Raoul and Meg had left, she had only given short and unfeeling answers to the questions that Erik had piled on her regularly. He had been thrilled when he had practically been offered Christine's company by an insolent Raoul but his happiness had been thoroughly shattered by her the sharp, painful stab of her apparent anger. Erik closed his eyes and tried to push the dull ache from his mind, he distracted himself by lighting every candle in Christine's room, which the pair had now reached. Each candle cast a golden light upon a different crack or dent in the stone walls, or refracted on a candle stick or splinted tiny shimmers from the beads on the bedspread.

Christine felt something burn inside her, she had never hated anyone before so she wasn't sure if it was hate she was feeling. It couldn't be, because as candlelight lit up Erik's mask features she felt herself soften to him. Maybe it was just a particularly painful annoyance and the constant ache of missing the world above. She still had Erik to blame, and she could hurt him as easily as herself. Christine sat delicately on the edge of the bed and took one of the deep red roses from its vase, when she could feel Erik's eyes setting on the rose she gently places her finger tips round the petals, as if she meant to stroke them. She then transformed her gentle and delicate touch, she pinched roughly at the petals, tearing them from the stem and sabotaging their beauty. Her pearly nails tore through the blood red flower like talons, and an expression of unintentional anger consuming her gentle features. Erik felt a lump rise in his throat, one that stung and obstructed his nervous swallowed. It crushed him like he was the rose, a beautiful thing given to her and now she didn't care for it and she had turned against the person who loved her. He knew she would not turn against Raoul, so why change with him?

All that was left of the rose was a crippled stem and drops of blood red silk that littered the floor like real blood shed, and Erik sunk to his knees like a wounded man and looked to Christine with a look that was identical to that of a person choosing the sight that would grace their eyes as they drifted closed from impending darkness. He felt like it was true, he felt he would sink further down from his knees and never rise again and he declared his last words with a wilting look into Christine's now troubled face.

Christine had only wanted to show him, to take something of his as he had taken her freedom. She was not sure what she had taken from him but it had left him down on his knees, eyes glazing over with sorrow and begging at her feet with a heart broken stare. Christine tried to give back she had taken, she swept to the floor next to Erik and placed her hands on either side of his face. She broke their silent conversation with desperate words.

"Stop!" She pleaded. "Why can't we be equal, if you take my freedom from me then I will take my trust from you." Erik placed his hands over hers and guided them away from his face.

"You can't go, what is the use of your trust if you're not here for me to use it?" He begged, clutching at her shaking hands.

"The knowledge that I trust you should be enough, you should be grateful that I will still let you hold my hands and look into my eyes. I let you do these things without my trust! Give me my freedom and you can live peacefully with the knowledge that I trust you and that if you touched my face I would not run away!" Erik raised one of his hands to dust Christine's pearly skin with his fingertips. "We are equal?" Christine questioned Erik, he bowed his head in a solemn agreement.

"As long as you stay here for just a while…I will let you watch the performance with me every evening! I will…I will take you up to the roof when you want to touch the night's sky. I will let you go up for weeks at a time, as long as you do not run away when I touch your face and you come to take away my loneliness just occasionally," His words became distorted as sobs began to break them. "I will…I-I-I will treat you as equal! I will bring you gifts! I-I-I will make sure you live finer than any c-c-countess." He bowed his head so low that his forehead was touching the hem of Christine's dress, yet he still continued to pledge and promise with all his heart until his emotions only allowed him a whisper.

"Please…please just stay…for now…and give…me your trust!" Christine watched him pitifully, she placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him until he was sitting upright. She then took his hand and guided it so his fingertips were touching her face lightly, she looked up from underneath her thick lashes and gave a complete and beautiful stare. She spoke with all the control she could manage.

"This is my trust."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

Meg had eyes for nothing but her own feet, they flitted about beneath her carrying her weight with, what she hoped was elegance and grace.

"Meg Giry! Take your eyes off your feet and look ahead." Madame Giry said sharply, glaring at Meg with harshly arched eyebrows. It was her job to be overly strict with the ballet girls, and her own daughter was no exception. But even Madame Giry, with her straight and emotionless persona, could not hide her overwhelming happiness at the return of her daughter. A smile crept past her tight lips as she watched Meg look straight ahead as she performed endless movements with a precision that Madame Giry herself would have been proud of.

Raoul watched the morning rehearsals from off stage, waiting for Meg to come near enough so he could pull her away from her dancing. She hurried off stage for a quick costume change for the next scene but her business was cut short by Raoul standing in her was to the changing rooms.

"Raoul! What are you doing here?" Meg asked, attempting to squeeze past him, but he caught her arm quickly.

"What are we going to do?" He asked spontaneously, giving Meg a short shake. Her face was painted with confusion.

"Um…I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going to get my costume on for the next scene, I'm rehearsing…"

"No, about Christine!" Meg carefully prised his fingers off her bare arms and took a step away from him. His eyes looked too frantic to be looking into so she once again looked at her shoes deeply.

"You know what Erik said, 'a while', he isn't going to keep her down there forever."

"He might!" He gripped her arms again.

"He won't!"

"He will."

"Don't be so stupid! It would make Christine unhappy." She began to wander away from Raoul, but she turned back after a while and shouted to him rudely, "Even if he did, you're not exactly going to be able to get her back are you?"

Raoul had half a mind to pursue her and demand what she meant by that comment but he decided against it. He asked himself who he could possible request help from. Madame Giry? No, she was also busy with rehearsals. He considered telling the managers about the whole affair, he did after all know the way down to "Erik's" house, he could just tell them and leave the police to deal with it. No…Christine would never forgive him. Just as he was heading towards the foyer, to leave the opera house, Madame Giry brushed past him, he called to her.

"Yes Monsieur Vicompte?" She said slightly irritably, but that was her normal air, one of irritation.

"Are you busy?" Raoul asked eagerly but with wariness, Madame Giry seemed like the kind of woman who looks weak on the outside but is unbelievably strong, especially as she was a ballet teacher. He was always worried that if you said the wrong thing she would deal you a sharp blow to the head before you could pardon yourself.

"Not currently, I will be in an hour and fifteen minutes though so please enlighten me quickly." Raoul guided her by the elbow to one of the boxes and sat her down in the chair that was there.

"You know Erik don't you?" Madame Giry didn't look the slightest bit alarmed at this question and she responded quickly.

"I am his oldest friend, well, second oldest."

"Then you must know he has Christine."

"I assumed as much, she has after all been gone for three…four days now."

"What can I do to get him to let her go?" It was strange, while Raoul was a nervous, worried, jittering wreck, Madame Giry was watching him with little interest, almost boredom. She talked as if a girl being forced to live underground with a disfigured musical genius was an everyday topic of conversation.

"Christine is an intelligent girl Monsieur, and Erik loves her more than you could ever understand, if it will make her happy he will let her go." With that Madame Giry stood up and began to leave the box, Raoul stopped her.

"You do not expect me to sit and wait for Christine to come back do you?" He asked desperately, he just couldn't understand why everyone was so calm about the situation. Anything could happen to Christine while she was down there, and the danger seemed to grow with every second. But still, with his obvious will, Madame Giry dismissed him with a disdainful look.

Raoul left the opera house in a horrible mood, he got into his carriage and directed the driver to his estate, but he was sure that after the evening performance he wouldn't be going home without knowing Christine was safe above ground.

- - - -

"Checkmate." Christine gave a sigh and began to return the chess pieces to their starting positions on the chequered board. Erik had a smug smile on his face. He was sat, leaning back on his chair lazily, his fedora casting shadow over the top half of his face.

"I'm never going to beat you, you know." Christine said, leaning over to collect the white pieces that belonged on her side of the board.

It had been an enjoyable morning so far, Christine had woken to a full breakfast and a wardrobe full of beautiful clothes. She had chosen a simple dress and eaten with Erik's amiable company. They had spent the morning playing chess and discussing various things, he also played a few pieces on the piano that sat in the drawing room. Neither of them had sung however. Since the night before, Erik and Christine were comfortable together, they talked like old friends and there was nothing between them, nothing conflicting anyway. Erik watched her go about her business all morning,

"So this is what it would be like to have my own wife." He told himself. She was after all almost as good as a wife, she washed the dishes after their breakfast without a single complaint and they had the kind of conversations two people who had nothing between them would have. There was something between them, no matter how blind Christine was to it, Erik knew there was still one barrier he wished to destroy. He wondered if it would ever be destroyed, he was reminded of it every time he thought of Christine as beautiful and every time her hand brushed his or she walked past him closely. He wished there was a way to rid himself of that horrible wall.

"Would you like to watch the opera tonight?" Erik asked, pushing his troubling thoughts as far away as he could get them.

"Oh yes please!" Christine practically shrieked, her eyes were wide with happiness. But they faded when she began to run the logic of the situation through her mind. "But how? Madame Giry told us that when you are in you're box there is no one there."

"There isn't." Erik answered simply, a smile playing on his lips.

"Then how can we watch the performance?" she frowned at the knowing smile that had worked its way across Erik's face. She placed her hand on his shoulder and prompted him to answer her with a short shake.

"I don't sit in the box, I sit in the pillar next to it." Before she could ask him a question he answered it swiftly. "It is hollow, and there is room enough for two people on a ledge I have constructed. You can hear every note perfectly." He said, full of pride for his own invention.

"But I won't be able to see!" She exclaimed, she didn't really think about the impact her words would have on Erik.

"Is music nothing, if you can't see its beauty?" Erik said, his voice raised and a growl building in his throat. Christine let go of his shoulder like it was red hot and backed against the wall.

"No!" She cried, her voice full of over sympathetic apologies. "I just meant…oh it doesn't matter." Christine's shoulders sunk in submission and she let out an exasperated sigh, but Erik clutched tightly to the point in his argument.

"See how you move away from me when you are reminded of Erik's face! It won't go away from behind this mask…If you go to the opera tonight, it will be right next to you!" His voice built to a crescendo which Christine cut short by disappearing to her room, but she turned before she slammed the door behind her to call something else out to Erik.

"Well then I guess I won't go then!" The noise of the door echoed throughout the house and left it as silent as if Erik was alone. He was as good as alone.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter nine

Erik cursed and became angry at himself. How foolish he had been! When she was there, right there, with her hand on his shoulder and happiness in her eyes he had gone and ruined everything. He also considered that his actions were perfectly justified, was he not allowed to take offence at such comments? He paced the room in frustration and almost went to Christine's room but cut himself off before he could do something foolish. Eventually he dropped into a chair at the table, bottling up his frustration inside his already troubled mind, the roar that had been building in his throat since his anger started was held in a tight lump in his throat. It throbbed painfully every time he tried to swallow. He dragged his up from his arms and looked at the chess pieces that were half-set on the board, Christine had yet to place her white pieces in the correct positions.

"How appropriate," Erik laughed silently to himself, "That she should be white and I should be black. I'll always be black." He leant over the board and picked up the black king, he studied it's wooden features for a moment and then swiftly cast it in the fire. He did not even turn around to see the wooden face disfigure itself with hideous burns until its features were no longer recognisable. Erik then took the white queen and, before he could dwell on the symbolism any longer, slipped her into his pocket.

- - - -

Christine sat on her beautiful bed with her head bowed with a heavy sadness. Erik had called out, about an hour ago, that he was going to watch the opera even she was not to accompany him. She had listened to his heavy footsteps failing out gradually from behind the door and her tearful eyes had danced between resuming her sobs or ceasing out of relief. Now she had no grudge to hold or anybody to talk to and all she did was pine silently for the world she had left behind. The emptiness of the house was like the lake, yawning out as far as the eye could see but with no company on a distant bank, Christine felt a need to occupy herself.

She opened the door from her room to the corridor and stood there, looking through the various passages, deciding where to explore first. The door to Erik's room would be locked, obviously, because of the passage that led back to Christine's dressing room. As she rattled the handles of various doors, Christine soon discovered that pretty much every single door was locked, excluding her room, the drawing room and the lake room. She chose to explore the lake room, she admired the silent darkness of the glassy expanse and admired the way her breath echoed off the towering stone walls so it build up until it was a chorus of hundreds of people, breathing in a steady unison. Christine padded nervously up some steps until she reached a little alcove, this housed a desk that was laden with various things. She sat timidly in the desk chair and ran her curious fingers over Erik's lonely belongings. A peacock feather quill brushed up against her skin, various papers where pushed aside in her hurried searching, she wasn't quite sure if she was looking for something in particular. But Christine knew that she had an hour or so to read every paper and examine every sketch. There were sketches, plastered to the wall, littering the desk like autumn leaves and acting like mirrors to Christine's face. Every where she looked her own face stared back at her, her skin pencilled in the detail that her face owned, her eyes moving and hands reaching though she sat stiff as the stone walls. She did not think to dwell on how wonderfully detailed the pictures were, or how skilled that artist was at taking her emotions and burying them deep into her eyes, her only thought was that the artist must have spent hours and hours watching her. There were pictures of the chapel, and Christine bowed at candles deep in thought. That had been three days ago! That exact moment was as clear on the paper as it had been in her memory. Who was the artist that observed her so carefully without her even knowing? For months and months she had been the perfect model without knowing…

Suddenly another of the pictures caught Christine's eye. It was her sitting at the desk in her dressing room. So he had seen her in her dressing room as well, he had watched her so closely had sketched in every thread of her dress, every one of her thick brown curls, her reflection shimmering in the mirror at her desk. Christine gently pulled the picture from the wall and put it to one side, she continued to search through the variety of papers. She squinted to make sense of some scribbled notes, dictating to herself,

"Wait…no, waist…waist is twenty five." The meanings of those scribbled words were lost on Christine at that moment. But it became horribly clear as she read:

Waist 25 inches

Leg 34 inches

Height 66 inches

Bust – not applicable

Christine gave a shriek and dropped the paper as if it had burst into flame. Those were HER measurements, she was all around. Her face was plastered on paper, her room was drawn out, and he knew everything!

Her mind burned with horrible knowledge, Christine leapt away from the desk and crashed backwards into some curtains, she ripped then away as they had draped themselves over her shoulder. To her dismay, the whole curtain came away and revealed something that did not settle Christine's troubled mind. Her twin stared back at her, a perfect replica. Its brown eyes glared dully back at Christine and its features remained stiff as it continued to stare with her face. Christine staggered backwards as if wounded, and only then she take in what this mannequin was wearing. A pristine wedding dress clung to the doll, the veil cloaking the strangely familiar features. Darkness smothered Christine and with a gasp she fainted away on to the floor.

- - - -

Raoul tossed a stone carelessly in the glossy waters of the underground lake. A glum realisation hit him, he was going to have to swim. He had completely forgotten the other way in the phantom's home and the only other way he could recall was crossing the lake. He pulled off his jacket and waistcoat and plunged into the icy waters, he gave a breathless gasp as the cold stabbed through his shirt and through to him bones, shortly accompanied by the damp. Breaths came jagged and they tore at the inside of his chest as he dragged them in. The ebony waters seemed intent of sucking him under, they weighed his clothes down like lead and lapped at his chin, occasionally he would take a gasp of water instead of air and would be left sputtering for breath and surface.

His last pulse of energy was just fading when his wading arms met the cold iron bars of the portcullis, he clung to it like his life and slowly took controlled and no longer laboured breaths. Raoul found the only way to reach the other side was to swim under the gate, he was worried than if he let go of the portcullis he would sink like a stone and never break the surface again, but it was a risk he had to take.

Raoul took one deep breath and succumbed to the waters, his ears roared as the water entered them, he dipped deeper and deeper into the waters, following the gate with his fingertips. Finally he reached the gap between the gate and the lake floor and he slid through it, letting his body rush to the surface as soon as he reached the other side. The banks drew nearer and he felt soft ground under foot and finally he was able to collapse on the steps the led to the house.

Raoul eventually gathered the energy to rise to his feet shakily and look around. The room was gloomy as only a couple of candles were lit, and darkness dominated most of the room. Raoul suddenly laid eyes on Christine, sprawled across the floor as if she had dropped dead only a minute ago. Suddenly he was granted a burst of energy that allowed him to rush over to Christine's limp figure.


End file.
